


Purr-gatory

by Ghibaryghat



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Cat AU, Gen, I don't want to tag all the characters since they haven't all appeared yet, My First Fanfic, and some of them haven't done anything even if they have appeared
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-05-31 09:56:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19423618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghibaryghat/pseuds/Ghibaryghat
Summary: When people die, they become cats. Most people, dying naturally, do not remember being human. They age as cats and die as cats. Some people, usually those that die unexpectedly or violently, keep their memories. They are unaging and undying.When Alison inherits an old mansion, she's surprised to find it filled with cats. She's even more surprised when, after a fall that nearly kills her, she's able to understand them. Can she and the ghost cats learn to live with each other?





	1. Chapter 1 - in which everything changes

A few weeks had passed since the death of the last Button of Button house. People had taken the body away. The absence of Heather didn’t change life that much for the cats that lived there afterwards though. The girl from the village still stopped by daily to feed them and top up the water, even though Julian swore that this was unnecessary. He could turn the tap on just fine, thank you very much. 

It was on a fairly ordinary afternoon when everything changed. 

A car pulled slowly into the drive, music blaring. Robin was the first to notice it, from his spot on the window ledge. The birds he was watching scattered before it and his eyes narrowed. Who would be driving up here? The village girl usually biked or rode in. Finding his voice, he yowled to the others.

The other cats abandoned the fight to join Robin at the window; Fanny's hackles still raised, Cap's tail still lashing. 

The doors opened, and music poured out, followed closely by a woman. Robin could feel Thomas sit up beside him, placing his paws on the glass and mewling softly about how beautiful she was. The Captain also straightened, staring at the man that emerged beside her. 

"Aw, they must be lost." Pat was the first to pull away from the window and head out of the room. "Let’s go say hello, see if we can't help them out."

Kitty bounded off after him, chirruping about new friends, with Thomas close on her heels waxing lyrically about the woman's hair or something.

When Robin started to get up to follow them, the Captain shook his head. "Best not to crowd them. They'll be gone soon enough, anyway."

  
  
  


Alison looked up at the house -  _ her house _ \- in awe. It looked even bigger than the pictures she'd seen. She and Mike practically bounced to the door, fumbling the keys into the old door. She opened the door and tripped over something. Something alive and fluffy. Something that was now purring up at her as if to indicate 'no hard feelings'. Bending down, she apologised to the tiny cream cat with a quick rub to its ears. A purr rumbled through its body as it leaned in. 

"Do the cats... come with the house?" Mike, behind her, was gesturing to two other cats approaching quickly. 

“I guess! Look, isn’t that the fluffiest cat you’ve ever seen? Look at her!” The tortoiseshell cat chirruped and bounded over to her. As Alison ruffled the fluffball with one hand and the little cream cat with the other, she watched the third cat. Was it… Pouting? “Oh no, baby do you want cuddles too? Mike, you’re gonna have to pat it, I’ve only got two hands.” 

Mike reached out to the pretty tabby only to have the cat dance out of his reach. He tried again, grasping at thin air as the cat skittered away. Alison gave both her cats one last scratch then stood up, linking her arm through Mike’s.

“Now we’ve met our new roommates, shall we see what else we can find here?”

What they found was:

One Boiler room

One library

One kitchen

Twelve bedrooms

Various fancy parlours

About seven thousand spiders 

Several ominous cracks in the walls

A lake!

And 

at least five more cats.

The last item was found inside one of the parlours. They’d been bouncing from room to room, exploring, when Alison had opened a door to another parlour or living room or something. And there they were. 

A grey tabby cat was staring intently at a persian, tails swishing. A black cat was lounging on a sofa, watching the fight with round yellow eyes. And two cats - one of which was the largest either of them had ever seen - were sat opposite each other, chessboard in the middle.The giant one was holding a chess piece in its mouth. 

As the door opened, the cats turned as one to face the door. There was a heartbeat of silence, a moment of still. And then they scattered. Within seconds, the room was empty. 

Alison was left wondering how many cats this house actually had, and how high the food bill was going to be.

She was sure she’d heard something in the basement too. Probably just the boiler. There was no way there’d be more cats down there.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Calm Before The Storm

Cats, like ghosts, like to keep to a routine. Cats, like ghosts, do not like to be interrupted from their sleep.

At the stroke of midnight, Fanny’s eyes popped open. Her tail twitching, she crouched in place for a second, shivering all over. Then the yowling began. Screaming, she pelted through the hallways, claws skittering on the wood floors. 

Two minutes after midnight, The Captain exited his room. His tail puffed up, he watched Fanny as she bolted past him. A growl built up in his throat. Yowling in turn, he voiced his complaints at the interruption of his sleep. 

Alison could not understand him, but she felt the same resentment when her eyes cracked open. She sat there, staring into the darkness, debating whether it was worth getting out of bed to see what was happening. After a moment, the wailing stopped. Alison sighed, rolled over, and closed her eyes again. 

She was woken the next morning by a weight on her chest and warm breath on her face. The tortoiseshell from yesterday was staring her directly in the face. Struggling to breathe, she reached up to gently push the cat off her. It leaned in to her hand, purring deeply. Weakly, she wriggled into a sitting position, the cat re-positioning itself in her lap. 

“You’re going to have to move soon, kitty. I need the loo.” The cat did not move, but it did purr even louder at her words. She nudged it again and received for her troubles a lick on the hand and two paws kneading into her stomach.

Just as Alison gave up on ever being able to get out of bed, Mike poked his head round the door. 

“Oh, you’re awake. I brought tea, _lady Alison,”_ Mike joked, handing her a cup of tea. The cat sitting on Alison shoved its face in her cup. 

“No!” Alison lifted her mug high and the cat blinked at her, distressed at the rejection and retreating to the foot of the bed.

  


Alison sighed. The house needed a _lot_ more repair than they thought. Even the two of them, with their limited DIY knowledge (and a ton of youtube tutorials) could see that. So they spent the day seeing what they could hook up and working out what they could and could not live without. It was a lot harder doing work around the house with at least three cats around each of them at all times.

So far the TV was working, and the grey tabby cat had claimed the sofa in front of it. Some show about tanks was on and the cat seemed transfixed. Mike had taken some pics for the internet and gone to turn it off. It had been a mistake on his part. The TV was turned back on shortly and Mike retreated to find a plaster, leaving his laptop open on the table. 

Julian slunk into the room. He was a very good shape for slinking, with long legs and a disregard for things like bones. Julian slunk his way over to the table, tail tip twitching. He twitched his whiskers in a grin when he saw the computer. He reared up on his hind legs and hovered his paws over the keyboard, carefully pressing down each of the keys one… by.... One… Now the others would see his legacy, his achievements.

He was about eight letters in when Mike reappeared, swatting him away from the computer and folding it up. Julian let out an indignant noise, somewhere between a yowl and a squeak.

While Mike dealt with the cats and the TV, Alison was unpacking. They’d left a lot of their stuff in the car overnight and so now she was left with the task of lugging several boxes across to the house while a cat strutted between her legs. The cat, admittedly, was not Mike’s fault. It was the skittish one from yesterday, which seemed far less skittish now Mike was not around. He wound through and under Alison’s feet, yowling all the while. 

Mike had taken the laptop for a reason. Now that the TV was working, he needed to set up the more practical home necessities. And that meant venturing down into the basement to check out the ancient boiler. It seemed worse going alone, with skittering noises and eyes gleaming out of the darkness. He turned the light on quickly before examining the boiler in more detail. Flipping the laptop open, he frowned at the screen. No Connection. Never mind, he’d figure it out. Shadows crept closer around Mike as he turned switches and flicked levers at random. 

He started as Alison opened the door to the basement, waggling a tea mug at him. “Want some? Kitchen’s unpacked.”   
Mike followed her up out of the basement, not noticing a lever being swatted back into place. 

The two of them sank into the sofa upstairs, clutching tea and sighing almost in unison. Cats milled around, and Alison patted her lap with her free hand. She almost regretted it when her lap was filled by a pile of cat. At least, she figured it was a cat. She certainly had thought so when she saw it last, but looking closer now she was less sure. It was massive, for one, bigger by far than any cat she’d seen before. Bigger than a lot of dogs, too. She placed her hand on its head, and scratched. Its fur was scratchy and somehow greasy at the same time. Alison scratched the cat and it purred not entirely like a cat, but like if you shoved a puma's voice box into a pillowcase, covered it in hair, and called it a day. She glanced across at Mike, who had the small cream cat tucked against him, also purring.

Across the room, the white cat was watching them. Alison met his eyes, just for a second, and he immediately began to noisily lick himself. In a _private_ area. Maintaining eye contact. 

Alison broke first. “So, um, if these are our cats now, we should probably be responsible cat owners. Right?”

“You mean like…” Mike made a snipping motion with his fingers. Pat, beside him, stiffened, his eyes shooting open. Neither human noticed as he exchanged a glance with Julian, who froze, leg in the air and tongue still half out of his mouth.

“I’ll see if I can find a vet. God, how many cat baskets are we gonna need?” Alison reached for her laptop, over the pile of cat on her lap and opening google.

“Don’t country vets do house calls? Like for sheep?”

“They must, right?”

The conversation lapsed as Alison checked the nearby vet centres. Finding one with spaces available, she scanned for some kind of contact details. “Uuughhhhh, _Mike._ they don’t even have an _email address._ We’re gonna have to call them.”

Mike handed her the phone, and slid out from next to the small cat. “You do that. I’ll see what the village has in the way of shops. We’re gonna need a lot of cat food.”

The cats gathered in the common room that evening, bristling. 

“Tomorrow?!” It was unclear who was distressed the most by the news, but Humphrey was the one that spoke first.

“Don’t panic. All we have to do is not get caught by them.” Pat’s tail revealed the worry that his voice did not.

“And what if they summon him again? Reschedule while he's there and we're _hiding like cowards?"_

“We need - a spy. Someone they won’t be likely to - well, someone they wouldn’t be expecting.” The Captain paced in front of the group.

Thomas spoke from where he was crouching on the sofa. “We could always use Jemima?”

The cats heads spun round to the door as a small voice mewled an old child's song. Jemima was the second oldest, chronologically, but due to her death happening as a child, she was stuck with the body of a kitten that had only just realised its back legs were part of it and not another cat trying to sneak up on it. She stood, tail a perfect triangle, and nodded. “I can be your spy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much happened this chapter but next time (probably not next week i have work etc) it should be more interesting. :)


	3. Chapter 3 - A Game of Cat and Mouse

Alison woke early that morning. In the shadows, she could see... something on the top of the fourposter. Moving? 

Eyes glowed in the dark and that was all the warning she got. 

THUNK. 

Alison could barely take a breath before over five kilos of cat landed directly on her torso. Oh. It was the same cat from yesterday, apparently upping her game; Alison was grateful she hadn’t eaten yet.

Her agony woke Mike. Instead of coming to her rescue, he slid out of bed and to the toilet. Alison resigned herself to patting the cat and trying to gently nudge it away from her vital organs. 

“Ok kitty, you can’t keep doing this. I _need_ these organs.”

Mike returned, drying his hands on his pajama bottoms and making a face. “Hey weird question, but is it normal for cats to stare at you on the toilet?” 

Alison nodded. “I had a cat once, used to do that. Used to get really worried if you took a shower too. Which one’s in there?” She could see, out of the corner of her eye, another pair of cat ears next to the bed. 

“The black one. We should probably give them names, huh?”

“Sure. This one can be Rib-Crusher.” The cat seemed upset by her harsh words, but was still sitting on Alison’s chest so as far as Alison was concerned the cat could shove it. And shove off too.

Mike leaned over, and hefted the cat off his wife. He carried the tortoiseshell over to the bathroom, shutting her in. “We can leave the two of them in there ‘til he comes.”

Now freed from her tormentor, Alison swung her legs out of bed and onto the floor. 

Something squelched. 

No. No no no. 

Alison’s soul had left. Gone. She leapt forwards, scraping her bare feet on the floor to try and wipe them clean. Gross. 

Robin watched as she danced in appreciation of his gift, a purr rumbling in his throat. Satisfied, he wandered out of the room. He’d spent all night finding the perfect mouse to represent the quality of pats that Alison had given him yesterday and now, safe in the knowledge that she knew he appreciated it, he trotted outside to see what he could find for his breakfast.

“Gross. Oh god _Mike_ I _stepped_ in it,” Alison was alternating between horrified whispers and garbled yells, the feel of the squashed mouse still imprinted on her skin. 

Oh _jeez._ Alison hoped that maybe getting the cats snipped would stop them from doing this. Would it? Maybe they could talk to the vet about it. 

  


An hour later, Alison and Mike were downstairs, eating breakfast. “So,” Mike began, in between mouthfuls of toast, “how are we going to trap the rest of the cats?”

Alison glanced around the room. Most of the cats hadn’t shown their faces yet today, and she was suspicious. Could they be smarter than they looked? She watched as a couple of them milled around the kitchen. A grey cat paced back and forth, meowing, whilst a tiny kitten stared at him. Probably just hungry or something. Oh, now there was a thought. “We can bribe them! With food. Close all the doors and windows here and then catch them.”

Jemima’s tail twitched. The Captain had been going over the plan with her for ages, and it wasn’t like it was a particularly difficult plan. Follow the humans around; listen in on their conversations; be adorable; get pats. Easy.

The Captain was still talking. “And if there’s any sign of trouble, Jemima, you are to call us at once. I will not have you sacrificing yourself in the name of duty.”

Jemima nodded. “And make sure to listen out for if they make a new appointment. I’ll be fine.” She glanced up at the humans, ears flicking to hear them better. They were standing up now, and opening cupboards at random. Looking for something, but what she didn’t know. They must’ve been saying important things while she had been concentrating on the Captain. Rats.

One of the humans straightened up with a cry of “Found it!” and hefted a bag onto the counter. Jemima wrinkled her nose. The humans had only really started feeding them in the last hundred years or so, and it was still a little weird to her. It made her feel sick as well, if she ate too much of it.

As Alison scooped food into the stack of cat bowls, Mike went round the kitchen pulling all the windows closed. The grey cat jumped up onto the counter next to him, watching as he flicked the latch into place. It narrowed its eyes at him, before jumping back down and heading for the door.

Alison was there first. The Captain felt hands grab him and lift. Yowling, he twisted frantically, scrabbling at the ground to hold on. It was no use. He found himself cradled to the shoulder of the intruder despite his protests. She manhandled him onto the table, squishing him at the shoulders. 

“Ohhh no you don’t. You, mister, are staying right here until the nice man gets here.” Alison didn’t need to understand cats to understand the noise that came out of the cats mouth was one of protest. “Well I’m sure you do want to leave, but this is for your own good. We don’t _want_ a hundred kittens running around.”

Mike picked up the food tin. “Let’s get some of your friends in here too.” He shook it, rattling the crunchies noisily. The Captain wriggled his head around enough to watch Julian strolling in, despite the exact instructions that he had been given. Alison shut the door behind him.

“That’s two more caught. So only what? Four left? Where -” 

The doorbell cut Alison off. The two of them left the kitchen, closing the door tightly behind them. 

The man at the door grinned at them, holding a hand out. Mike shook it. 

“Hi, Tim Bucksworth.” The man, Tim, gestured to himself, then pulled out a notebook. “This is Button House, yes? You said you had _over_ eight cats?” 

“That’s right,” Alison said, nodding, “They... came with the house? My, um, great aunt died and we don’t exactly know how many there are.”

“We keep finding more.” Mike added.

“ _Right.”_ Tim turned back to the vet branded van. Opening it, he grabbed a stack of cat boxes and a pair of thick, strong gloves. “Well, let’s get these kitties down to the surgery. Do you know where they are?”

Alison and Mike led him first to the kitchen, it being closer than the upstairs toilet. Alison opened the door carefully, then swung it all the way. “What? Where did they..?” 

The kitchen was empty. Well, empty except for the tabby kitten, sitting beside the open window and looking out of it, watching as Julian and the Captain slunk around under the plants. As the door opened, Jemima turned around and chirruped. Large hands grabbed her, lifted her up and set her back down on the centre island, away from the window.

Above her, the humans were frantic. 

“The window? You left the window _open?”_

“I thought - I’m sure I -”

“ _Cats can’t open latches Mike!”_   
_  
_ _Not an ordinary cat,_ Jemima thought, _but three of_ **_us_ **? Easy. She walked carefully to the edge of the granite surface, mewling to get one of the humans to pick her up. There was no way she’d be able to keep up unless she hitched a ride. It was the stranger who gently moved her back into the middle of the counter. Jemima grabbed his sleeve. Using her pin-sharp claws, she hefted herself up his arm onto his shoulder. Now she had a view of everything, convenient transport, and - she purred as the vet reached his hand up - free scratches. The hand reaching up hooked itself under her and lifted her down. Oh. So not scratches then.

“Well I can give this little one a check while we’re here, and then set up some traps to catch the others.” 

Jemima chirruped. This was what she’d been sent to spy for. So long as she could stay with the humans, she could tell the others where the traps were and when the vet was returning to check them. 

She was less happy about it when the vet began his checks, patting her down, poking her all over and lifting her tail to check underneath. She squeaked and he had the audacity the laugh at her. 

“Vocal little thing, isn’t she?” The vet turned Jemima around and opened her mouth. “About… 5 weeks, I think. Have you seen her mum around? She probably isn’t weaned yet.” 

“We did shut a couple of other cats upstairs. Maybe one of them’s the mum?”

Mike nodded. “Tortoiseshell cats are girls, right?”

Oh, so one of them was Kitty, then. No need to worry. She was big enough to swing even the really heavy doors open. 

“Well, lead the way.” Before the vet moved too far away, Jemima latched herself on to his sleeve again. He laughed and picked her up. “Are you coming too, little one?” She absolutely was.

The humans were fairly quiet as they made their way upstairs and now they paused at the door to the bedroom, ajar. 

Jemima, perched on the vet’s shoulder, mewled loudly. There weren’t any words in it, just a warning. If there had been cats in there, hopefully there wouldn’t be now.

Mike pushed the door open all the way and stopped. The toilet door was wide open, wide enough that the entire en suite was visible. Unless the cats were behind the shower curtain, they had left. 

Alison strode over and swished the curtain out of the way. Nothing. Jemima trilled slightly. So they had remembered to get out of there. 

Jemima stayed clinging to the vet’s shoulder as the humans headed back downstairs, talking as he went. 

“I doubted you’d actually be able to catch them. Cats can be tricky, especially if they aren’t used to you. And we all know old Heather Button was hardly in a way to look after cats properly. I figured they be halfway feral by now. I brought cat traps.”

He unfolded and set up an odd metal contraption. Almost as long as a table and made of a grid too small to squeeze through, it scraped against itself as he pushed it into place. 

“I’ve even brought bait,” the vet continued, pulling a pack of food from his bag. “It’s a very fatty tuna. They won’t be able to resist.” He cracked the packet open and Jemima caught the scent of something strong and fishy. Her mouth watered. 

As the humans set up and arranged the other traps around the house and gardens, Jemima watched from close by. Staying within hearing range, she examined the traps to see how they worked. It looked like to open it you had to squeeze _this_ part while pushing _that_ one up. Tricky, when none of you had thumbs anymore.

“So, give me a ring tomorrow if the traps are full and I'll bring the van down.”

The vet shook hands with both of the house humans and as his car roared away Jemima trotted back to the common room to meet with the other cats. They needed to know to steer clear of those traps. 


	4. Chapter 4 - Cats always land on their feet (but people don't)

The traps did prove too enticing to ignore, and the cats of the house were unsurprised to find two of the boxes filled by early morning. Robin barely fitted in the box and had refused Pat’s offer of help..

Humphrey, on the other hand, was not above help. Nor was he staying quiet as the cats crowded his box. Julian had leapt up on top and was gripping the handle of the trap in his teeth. Pat glanced at Jemima for confirmation, then bit the latch while Julian lifted the handle. It took a couple of tries before they managed to be enough in sync that the front opened enough for Humphrey to shoot out.

Pat licked his lips to rid the taste of metal from his mouth and turned towards the box Robin had been in. “Do you need us to -” 

Robin was not there. 

Robin had managed to chew a hole through the metal wiring. In the time it had taken Pat and Julian to figure out the latch and open the crate, Robin had figured out just the right angle to break the wire at. He had pushed his way through, leaving behind an empty food bowl and a couple clumps of fur. As Pat looked at him, he shook himself and spat out a tooth.

Seeing their expressions, Robin grinned. “It grow back.”

“I - I don’t think it will, mate.”

Whatever Robin was going to say next was interrupted by human footsteps on the stairs. The cats scattered as Alison walked down into the hall. 

Alison had slept well that night. There hadn’t been cats screaming down the hallways at midnight, or leaping onto her stomach in the morning. It had been peaceful. Quiet. Too quiet. Were they… planning something?  
  
She shrugged the thought off. They were *cats*. Really annoying cats that could open doors, but cats nonetheless. They couldn’t plan anything past suppertime. Probably the cat traps had worked. 

Her good mood drained away when she saw the traps.  
  
What   
The   
Hell.   
  
Alison spent what felt like forever staring at the hole in the metal. What sort of _cat_ could..?

Tim Buckland, MRCVS, had barely finished making his coffee when Clara appeared from the main reception area holding the phone.   
“It’s the guys at Button House with the invisible cats. They want to talk to you.” 

Tim nodded and took the phone, his greeting dying when he heard the level of frantic on the other end. Something about the cat traps?

“If the cat traps are full I can come collect -”

“No, they’re _empty!_ ”   
  
Tim tilted his head back and took a breath. “ _T_ _hen why are you calling?”_ he asked in the world where people did not get fired for being rude to customers. Out loud, he said “if they are empty you can leave them. Replace the food this evening” _like I told you yesterday_ “and don’t give them any -”   
  
“ _No._ ” Alison gut him off again. “They - I think they _broke out_ of the traps?”

“Broke… Out?” Was she having him on? “Those traps are made of steel wire. Cats can’t break out of steel wire traps.” 

“Then explain to me why _there is a giant hole in this trap!?”_ Alison’s voice rose in intensity and pitch. Well, she was committed, he’d give her that.   
  
“If you’d like to bring it down to the surgery we can -” Tim was interrupted again. Not with words this time, but a scream. 

Then the phone cut off.  
  


Julian would like us, please, to look at the facts of what happened. To consider the context and not make base assumptions about whether or not he was to blame. So, here are the facts:

FACT NUMBER ONE: Alison was pacing along the top floor landing.  
FACT NUMBER TWO: She was on the phone, and not paying attention to where her feet were.  
FACT NUMBER THREE: The floor at that particular point was uneven, had holes in the carpet, and was an all around trip hazard.  
FACT NUMBER FOUR: Yes, Julian technically was there, and lounging around across the landing. Yes, _technically,_ he could have perhaps been considered in the way, by a casual observer, but that’s clearly because they wouldn’t know the whole context would they?  
FACT NUMBER FIVE: Alison tripped.  
FACT NUMBER SIX: When people fall, they usually grab hold of something to try and steady themselves.  
FACT NUMBER SEVEN: Button house is very old, and in some disrepair.  
FACT NUMBER EIGHT: The top floor bannister, for example, has a severe case of woodworm.  
FACT NUMBER NINE: Rotten wood will not support the weight of a full grown woman.  
FACT NUMBER TEN: Falling from the top floor to the bottom can and will put you in hospital

Alison was very lucky, Mike was told. She hadn’t broken her neck. The ambulance had arrived quickly. They’d been able to stabilize her and she was alive. Alison was alive. 

Alison was alive.

Alison _was_ alive.

Alison…

Alison was in a coma. But alive. Now. And she’d be waking up soon, probably. Definitely. And everything would go back to normal. And they’d get back to work on the house and start the hotel and everything would be fine.

He’d send off for the survey. She’d wake up before it got here.

She’d wake up.

In the end, it was over two weeks before Alison woke up. The survey had arrived and it was, well, not _good_ news. The house was barely safe to walk through, let alone live in. Let alone invite other people, paying public, to stay in. So.

So a lot of work would have to be done. So a lot of money was needed. And Mike and Alison had quit their jobs just before moving out here and Mike didn’t really want to look at his bank account. At least they weren’t paying rent anymore?

It was another few days before they released Alison and Mike had made some decisions that, really, he should have waited for her on. But he was antsy and worried and Alison had been actually dead and then alive again and that was clearly a sign that they were meant to stay right? Right?

Mike had to tell her on their way home anyway. The builders were arriving and she really ought to know about them before they did. 

Mike didn’t tell the cats about any of this, however. He didn’t think to. Why would you tell a collection of animals that are avoiding you and probably wouldn’t even understand english anyway? 

It was a shock then that - during the daily Demonstration Talk (from Mary, about milking) - Mike and Alison returned. And, before they were even in the house, a fleet of other vehicles arrived. This would not do.

Alison, still a little dazed, wandered into the house. Builders and contractors flowed around her, setting up construction and talking amongst themselves. At one point, a hard hat was handed to her. 

And now, she could hear something. Some one? It wasn’t Mike, and didn’t sound like the builders. Alison followed the voice and as she did so she realised it was definitely more than one voice. And they were arguing or something. She pushed open the door to the living room it seemed to be coming from and saw

No one. 

Just the eight or so cats, sitting in a circle, almost as if they were holding a debate. She stared at them and they stared back. The voices had stopped. Some kind of brain thing? Alison turned to go.

“Oh, so she _is_ back! That’s good!”

Alison turned, very slowly, to face where the voice was coming from. It sounded like a young woman, not much younger than Alison herself, but there was definitely no one there.

“Kitty, it is Not Good!” As this was said, the grey cat’s tail lashed. His mouth opened like he was meowing but Alison heard no meow. Instead she heard, quite clearly, the voice of an adult man. “We don’t want her here!” 

Alison froze. Her mouth opened to speak.

**Author's Note:**

> If you got this far, thanks for reading! I hope it's clear which cat is which ghost but if it isn't let me know.
> 
> Thanks to @highinfibre for beta reading, and also a bunch of the titles and things :)  
> Also thanks to rad-lever for starting the ghat discussion


End file.
